I'm not sure...

...if the milk I just drank was any good. Kinda praying that it was just an ice chunk.

I really shouldn't

...be so happy when I walk into the room and my roommate isn't there.

Stolen from Sheila

Worst Books Ever, or Five Hours of My Life I'll Never Get Back

Sister Carrie. Ugh.
Anything by Garth Nix. He always leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
The Grapes of Wrath

Books I Have Lied About Reading

If I say I've read it, I've read it. I have no need to lie about that.

Books I Have Lied About Liking

Every book that came after "Clan of the Cave Bear." I told my mom I loved them all because they're her favorites.

Book-to-Movie Adaptations Where, Frankly, the Movie Was Better

The Masterpiece Theatre version of "Wives and Daughters" and "Kidnapped"

Books I Used to Love, of Which I Am Now Ashamed

Anne of Green Gables

Best Book Titles of All Time

Infinite Jest

Resturant at the End of the Universe


Books That I Expected to Be Dirtier

The "Tropic" books

My Real Guilty-Pleasure Reads, and Not the Decoys I Talk About Openly

I still reread the "Young Adult" genre stuff from childhood.

Books You Must Read Before You Die, but Would Rather Die Than Read

Remembrance of Things Past

Books I Refused to Read for a Long Time Because too Many (or the Wrong) People Recommended Them

Crime and Punishment

Books I Read Only After Seeing the Movie

I usually pick up the book after seeing the Masterpiece Theatre version

Books I Most Often Try to Persuade Other People to Read

the "Tropic" books, Frankenstein

Authors I Wish Had Written More Books

Jane Austen

Overused Plot Points That Drive Me Nuts

Avenging a death


Books in Which I Liked the Secondary Characters Better Than the Main Character, or Books in Which I Wanted to Beat the Main Character Senseless with a Tire Iron

VANITY FAIR!!

Books I Lied About Reading/Liking Solely to Look Smart/Pretentious

I don't really do that.

Literary Characters I've Developed Crushes On

Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice

The Creature from Frankenstein

Robert Frobisher from Cloud Atlas

Algernon from the Importance of Being Ernest


Books I Only Read to Impress Other People

I don't really do that.


Books I Shouldn't Admit Made Me Cry Like a Baby

I did not cry like a baby, but I did shed a tear or two during Frankenstein


Books People Keep Recommending That, Frankly, Sucked Ass

Anything by Anne Rice after The Vampire Lestat, Nicholas Sparks, James Patterson, Steinbeck


Books My Teacher Made Me Read That I Really, Really Liked

Anything from AP Lit.


Books My Teacher Made Me read That Made Me Question the Value of My Education

I was forced to read "Where the red Fern grows" in fifth grade. At that point in time, I started reading Shakespeare.


Books That Made Me Want to Have Sex with at Least One Character

I definitely would like to have sex with Mr. Darcy, and also Steerpike from Gormenghast.


Books I Actually Read but Got a Poorer Grade on the Paper I Wrote on the Subject Than My Best Friend Who Did Not Read the Book

Sister Carrie


Books I Read Because the Author Looked Hot

Huh?


Books I Will Go to the Mattresses for, Even Though I Hate the Writer

I'll go to the mattress for a lot of things. I'll go to the mattress against censorship, against whiny anti-intellectual commentary (usually incorporating the word "latte" as though that is some kind of shorthand that we all can understand. Here's a hint: You look lazy when you use it too much. You look like an asshole. What the hell is wrong with "latte"? Unless you want to live in an echo chamber where everybody nods, and snickers about "latte" - and who knows, maybe you do - then you need to realize that that big huge CHIP you have on your shoulder about a certain kind of coffee drink makes me tune you out.) And maybe you don't care about having people listen to you. So be it. Just tellin' ya what it looks like over here. So writers who are attacked for THESE types of reasons ... as opposed to their books? I don't care WHAT they wrote. I'm sticking up for them. (These are Sheila's words, not mine. I don't even know what "Going to the mattress" means)



Books I Pretend to Like So People Won't Think I'm a Snob, or Books I Pretend to Like So I Won't Hurt Your Feelings

I'm ok with being seen as a snob.


Books with Covers So Embarrassing You Can't Read Them in Public
There aren't any. I read "Tropic" in the middle of Davies. I read "The Vagina Monologues" in the caf. The more lewd/weirder the cover, the more likely I will read it in a very public place.


Books You Are Sorry You Didn't Read Decades Ago

This question does apply very much, considering I'm only 18. (19 in a month!)

Back from Dave's

And I'm back in my room. Jessie cleaned everybody out by 10:30, so we just hung around for a while. Had another very interesting coversation with the guys (and J) about masturbation, kinky sex, Zero-Gravity magnetized ballbearings, etc. I love how I can talk with them about wierd shit and not be judged. Mac is pissing me off, however. It amazes me how long one can hold a grudge. I can't seem to stay mad at someone for more than a day. I think one should at least try to look at things from another's perspective.

On another subject: Poetry orgasms do exist, despite what Dave and Mac say.

Freethought Society meeting tomorrow. And auditions for the Vagina Monologues.

Depressed. Very much so.

I should get some sleep, I'm having coffee with Victoria in the morning.

Useless Majors Unite!

People place too much emphasis on money. They go to college to earn money later in their lives. But what about us with useless majors? I don't care about money, but I love Theatre and English Literature and am here just because those subjects make me happy(ish). The only ones who'll actually have cash in their lifetimes will be the Computer Science majors (Dave, David, Chris, Jeff, Tanya, Kevin). My nefarious plan: bum off of these guys now, so they'll be used to it when I'm homeless, and will happily lend me the couch for the night.
I'll be the crazy lady who carries around books in a huge backpack wandering the streets of St. Paul, Milwaukee, Madison, and Chicago, looking for old friends who'll lend her the cost of a meal.
Actually, It's kind of cool how I have friends from all over. As long as I stick to the midwest, I can survive off of their kindness.

Ok, so it's 1am now, and I've been fucking around with this blog for a while now. I should go to sleep, or finish that damn chapter about rhetoric. That'll put me to sleep for sure.

Things that bug me 1/29/07

1. When Matt says "goys" instead of "guys." I mean, why does he assume we're all non-jewish? Also, Nipple Ring Dave's use of 'jew' as an insult. That slur is based on erroneous stereotypes and shouldn't apply to anyone.

2. Country Music. Enough said.

3. Winter. Prevents me from taking walks, among other things.

4. All the damn hills in EC. What the fuck, people? Why would you build a university on top of a huge-ass hill? I'm also annoyed that the cemetary is atop another gigantic hill, so my visits to it are few and far between.

5. This one's for Chris: All the damn Christian orginizations on campus. They even invite annoying conservative hateful preachers to sit on campus and yell at the top of their lungs for days. The last one I heard was comparing Feminists to Hitler, and said that the people who shop at Wal-mart are going to heaven, no matter what. Seriously: WTF, mate? There are too many Christians about; we Atheists/Agnostics/Secular Humanists need to start making some babies to combat the religious population. The trouble is, the preachers spout such ridiculous stuff everyone sits around and listens, even though they completely dissagree with their views. We shouldn't give them the time of day, but it's just too damn funny.

6. Thirsty Thursdays at 4th North. I am so sick of dodging golfballs in the fucking hallway every week. Nearly took my fucking eye out last week.

7. People who don't read. I understand that some folks can't read as well as I, but flaunting your ignorance as a source of pride perplexes me.

8. Grudges. Get the fuck over it, bitches.

9. Prudes. I like to swear up a storm. I like to drink whatever the hell I want. I don't think that porn is bad. I like to walk around naked. I like my birth control, thankyouverymuch. I don't know why masturbation's considered taboo. I like to make out with whoever the fuck I want, women included. I don't consider smokers evil. Drugs should be legal. Gay marriage should be legal.

10. False people. How do human beings like my roommate end up befriending people who stab you in the back weekly? Who lie all the fucking time? I consider Emily a great person, but her friends constantly back-stab her and take advantage of her all the time. I like genuine people, those who are unapologetically, unabashedly themselves.

For Lucy

I refer you to this blog:
http://goingon40.blogspot.com/

Keep going until you find the photo of the glorious Dwight bobblehead. And the sushi pillow.

I just realized

That I am almost out of pink post-its. The thought of switching to green ones is fucking with my mind.

Unhappy

I am very unhappy. I hate operating in this meaningless existance. There's nothing I can do to help it. I know that even a change of scenery wouldn't help. I'd be unhappy anywhere, it's my way. I honestly can't remember when I was last truly happy. I'm sure it really doesn't help that I'm prone to spontaneous depressions, as is my mother. Hopefully I can fend off the rest of her mental problems. I just wish there was more to my life. Everything I do has no purpose, no meaning. I still desperately seek a meaningful reality. When I was talking to L. all those weeks ago, I felt as if I could see the whole picture, the entire web of human folly and greatness. I saw it, felt it. Something about talking with him is so illuminating, and amazing. Transcendant. That's how he makes me feel. And I know I'll never see him again. It's his way. He dissappears from time to time, retreats into himself. I envy that sometimes.

Hungover

...So hungover. I've been puking since 9am. I'm glad I crashed on the couch at Dave's apt. though. It turns out they shut the water off in my dorm for the whole day. It's nice to puke in a toilet with running water. I've never been this hungover.

Pixies

The Pixies is an awesome band. I think they lost most of their potential audience because their music is so dissonant. But therein lies the brilliance of the Pixies. They juxtapose so many contrasting notes against each other and turned out a sound that no one had ever heard before. I can't go to a Caribou Coffee (I hate Caribou, but when I'm deperate, it'll do) without humming their song "Caribou."

Après moi...

I need to leave this place and go somewhere new. I need to go to a place where there is still the euphoria of a new friend, no history built up. No bullshit, no drama.

It is an unfortunate truth that I leave ruin in my wake.

Après moi, le déluge.

No class until 3!

The only class I have on Tuesdays and Thursdays is Math 109. I thought I had Kins 196 at 2, but after sitting through the first class, I realized that my name wasn't on the attendence sheet. So today I went and had coffee with Victoria, Mac, Gay Tim, and Kelly. Not spectacular coffee, but it was better than Jazzman's.

Victoria is Fancy Shoe Guy's new roommate who he had brought to a poker game.

I think I've met almost all of my friends at the poker games.

Lucy, Amber, and Anne I had met at the tie-dye thing behind Governor's. I hadn't made friends with anyone on my floor besides April, and Emily and I just don't hang out. Amber looked like a fun individual, so I sat down next to her and told her so. As soon as I had mentioned my major, she and I talked about all the productions we had done for about an hour. Lucy and Anne came over and chatted for a while. They invited me to go bowling with them, and I went. I didn't bowl because I had shown up after the game started. Then we listened to Dane Cook in Amber's room and went to the Fiesta Del Blugold together. It's not often that you run into people and become friends with them immediately.

I met David because I had my four hour lighting lab for Stagecraft one night and wanted to eat before then. So I went to the caf and grabbed food, and it was relatively empty. I had had great luck making friends by just sitting down next to people, so I decided to sit next to David. He was wearing a tie-dye shirt, and in my expirience, people wearing tie-dye are rather fun. We bonded over pudding and random questions. He asked for my phone number, which actually really freaked me out, because I'm not used to giving my number out to guys, but we exchanged anyhow. He's been one of my best friends here ever since.

I met Dave and Jessie after I had watched Grey's with Lucy. A character's dick piercing got stuck in his ex-wife, so that prompted the question: how does one go about getting your dick pierced? Do you just lift your leg and say: Pierce me? We asked David about it, and he told us that his friend Dave had nipple rings, so maybe he had other piercings. He invited me to a poker game so I could ask him (Dave doesn't have his dick pierced BTW). And so That's how I met Nipple Ring Dave and by association Jessie, who declared after 3 drinks that I was her new best friend.

Other than that, all poker games.

So what if I'm a group stalker?

One of my little hobbies from last semester was sitting in the area by Jazzman's in Davies and eavesdropping on a specific group of people. I have been doing this since September, while doing my physics homework (guess which one I did more of). I believe this group of people to have initially been a study group and are now all friends. They like to argue about religion and politics among other interesting things. There's nerdy guy and his girlfriend(NG+NGG), little girl voice girl(LGVG), possible exchange student(PES) and other various characters. If they're in Jazzman's I try and sit as close as I can to them without being a conspicuous eavesdropper. This semester they are still hanging out, and so I can prolong my little game further.

I now realize this is slightly creepy, but I still recommend it as a hobby. You get to know people while still retaining anonymity, and it's a fun little game.

It's also more interesting than staring at strangers, unless you feel like slowly creeping someone out.

Which is also fun.

I also enjoy leaving bits of poetry around on receipts, napkins, etc. I like to think that someone will pick it up and read it before they throw it away. Unfortunately, I seem to lose a lot of good poetry this way. So if I don't publish poetry for a while, I'm either really uninspired or I abandon it to its fate.

Listening to: Franz Ferdinand

ick

I think I'm coming down with another cold. Ick. It also means that everyone I know will come down with one. Damn me and my disease spreading abilities.

Sesame Street is responsible for ADD

Today was the first day of classes here in Eau Claire. I have forgotten my alarm clock back home, so I have set both my phone and iPod to go off at 9. Due to my predilection for sleeping in, I was fearful of missing my first class.

I made it to French early. I walked down there with Lucy, which was a good thing because I didn't know the room number. I think I've forgotten all the French I've ever learned. Either that, or Professor Miller talks too fast with a Strasbourg accent.

Theatre History is looking up. Theatre history was one of my hobbies back in the day, and I don't mind reading a couple new plays each week. We watched Sesame street in class, and I beleive it to be the cause of most if not all cases of ADD in the US. It flashes from it's main plot line to little sketches that last less that 2 minutes and have random characters popping in and out all the time. I miss the old Sesame Street from the 80's and early 90's. They seem to have gotten rid of the glorious ADDness in the new sesame street. It's focus seems to be Elmo, the most annoying character ever to appear on a children's show. Grover is far superior, especially when he plays that waiter. And lets not forget the Star Trek parody. That shit was gold.

I am going to love my English class. The professor, Jan, Seems kind of like Fel, my AP Lit teacher. I'll know I'll kick ass. Though I have yet to pick up every book for the class. I'm working on it.

Matt seems like a cool teacher. It'll certainly make sitting in a math course easier on me.

Still awake

Eh, sitting here in my room, bored/depressed and sober. Listening to Jeff Buckley, who I listened to the last time I was depressed. He's good for that. There is something about his voice that is amazingly fragile.

My bed is so damn uncomfortable, it isn't any wonder that I hate sleeping in it.

Anxiously looking forward to coffee with Lucy tomorrow, to exchange stories of our break.

Apparently we're the same person, but we're having trouble determining who's the evil one. It's me, by the way. She is not as callous as I.

It's so strange having a room to myself. I've always shared a room with my little sister (Heaven forbid that she ever finds this blog), so I'm incredibly used to having another person in the room. Not that I don't appreciate the solitude of course. I wouldn't be able to play my music if she was here.

Snapshots from Last Night

"French Riviera! French Riviera!"

"I love the Supreme Court!"

"Great. I've always wanted to kiss my closet door."

"DAVID GET OVER HERE AND KISS ME!"

"What the fuck? Person eye Hospital? What is that supposed to be?"

"Why the hell do I have THREE I's?"

"David, have you ever snorted sugar? Here, snort that."

"NO! He can't stay here! I don't like sick people!"

"Yes! I've been waiting to kiss a woman all night!"

Oh, how I love walking drunk-ass friends home.

Hemingway

This is the guy's last chance.
I swear on Shakespeare.

If "A Moveable Feast" is not good, I'm never reading him again. The last time was very painful. But all actors are masochists, as I see it. Therefore, I am a masochist and I am reading Hemingway.

Update: Started and Finished it today.
Not bad, if you're into books that are just one big name drop. F. Scott Fitzgerald this, Gertrude Stein that...We get that you have famous friends! It's difficult to beleive that he was friends with Joyce, why would genius hang out with a hack?
Dry prose, no passion behind it. I can see that He takes after Henry James(praised) rather than Dostoyevski (Insulted), Miller's idol. I can't bring myself to believe that he loves writing and his art, though he certainly had no trouble convincing me of his adoration of his food and drink.
Was this worth reading: no.
Will I boycott Hemingway due to this?:

No, he's bought himself some time.

Better Now...seriously

So I've been sick for two weeks, and obviously having no fun. On wednesday I was near death. I could hardly stand, much less walk. I went to the doctor, and apparently I had pneumonia. He gave me some antibiotics, and today I am officially declaring myself well enough to go out.

Bored. As. Hell.

I want to go back to Eau Claire! There, I wouldn't be sitting at home with NOTHING to do. I can't Even call Adam or Caroline. Or Lila.
I miss Lucy, I miss David, I miss Jessie, I miss Dave, I miss Amber, I miss Anne, I miss Maren, I miss Dylan, I miss Kelly, I miss Mikey, I miss Frosty, I miss Shari, I miss Katie, I miss Ecatarina, I miss Sara, I miss Meghan, I miss Keirsen, I miss Chris, I miss Jeff, I miss April, I miss Tracey.
I miss my college life (not so much the homework, but you know). Good news: Adam has promised to come and visit me in Eau Claire in February, around my birthday. So it'll kind of be his birthday celebration, too (we're two weeks apart). He doesn't really do much besides work and go on crazy adventures, so we must ensure he has fun (poker game!). And make him walk the hill. And get him drunk. But that goes without saying.

My name? Why just call me God-- God the embryo.

If you've spoken to me lately, you know that I hold Henry Miller's 'Tropic of Cancer' in the highest esteem. It is a novel which, with very sentance, made me stop in wonder and have to relearn how to breathe before I could go on.
I didn't think a book could top 'Tropic of Cancer.'

I was wrong.

Henry Miller also wrote a prequel to it, 'Tropic of Capricorn.' Right from the start, each WORD is more amazing than the last. I'm trying to go slow, I hate that I'm over half-way through.

I took this from page 204, floating down river in the Land of Fuck:
"What is your name? shouts someone. My name? Why just call me God-- God the embryo. I go sailing on. Somebody would like to buy me a hat. What size do you wear, imbecile! he shouts. what size? Why size X! (And why do they always shout at me? Am I supposed to be deaf?) The hat is lost at the next cataract. Tant pis- for the hat. Does God need a hat? God only needs to become God, more and more God."

107:
"This is the incarnation of the hallucination of sex, the sea nymph squirming in the maniac's arms. I watch the two of them as they move spasmodically inch by inch around the floor;they move like a octopus working up a rut. Between the dangling tentacles the music shimmers and flashes, now breaks in a cascade of sperm and rose water, forms again into an oily spout, a column standing erect without feet, collapses again like chalk, leaving th upper part of the leg phosphorscent, a zebra standing in a pool of golden marshmellow, one leg striped, the other molten."

I mean, who else writes like that?

Adventures

Pool Adventure:
Went to play pool w/ Cha Thurs. night. The trouble was that we got into the places just fine, but then Cha happens to "mention" to an employee that I'm not 21. Out we go. Repeat 2 more times. Ended up fighting for the only table at some bowling alley. We didn't play each other, which was the point of the whole excursion, but instead a mother and her son. They were, frankly, really bad. We threw a few games because it was the kid's birthday, but still won most games. Then we played two guys who ran the table on us, and we were done. I don't think I like bar tables, they're too small.

Illinois Adventure:
Called Adam up, told him there was a place in McHenry, IL I wanted to see. After he got off of work, off we went. I didn't have any idea how to get to McHenry, so we just kind of guessed. Luckily, we guessed correctly, but I think there must be a quicker way down there because It took almost an hour to get there. Finally found the place, and I'm glad we went. Very small place, but good music and a cute employee, glass eye and all. Must remember to invite Lee or Caroline along on the next adventure. Caroline is fun in a bottle. Caroline is fun WITH a bottle. Lee just has ADD, and can appreciate mine and Adam's short attention spans.

I spoke with someone I hadn't heard from in a long time, and I can't help but be in awe of the clarity he's found. When I think back on the conversation, I can't help but thinking he's one of the most amazing people I've ever met.

English Major?

An English Major
Is really Someone
What would I do
If I had become one?

Why the hell am I not an English major? Hell, Shakespeare is my HOBBY. I feel lost without my volume of his complete works. I have been itching to read King Lear, and reading it online does not cut it.

Stealing books from me is an unforgivable sin. Damaging them is even worse.

I like to annotate. I even do it to books that I'm not reading for a class.

I'm looking for a cheap copy of 'The Norton Anthology of Literature by Women,' if anybody happens across one.

Grammatical mistakes irk me.

I want to study German and Latin just to get a better understanding of the English language. Yes, I am telling the truth.

I like Dickens.
I'm not be honest about this one, I like some Dickens. 'The Old Curiosity Shop' should be burned with out remorse. yeah, I said it. Sentimental tripe.

I beleive that anyone who says they like 'Wuthering Heights' to be a poser. There is nothing to like about that book.

I hate borrowing from the library. I want to own the book, love the book. I don't like sharing.

Buying used is infinitely better than buying new.

But I am not a writer. I hate this fact.

I heart colds

It is 4 a.m. and I'm still up. I guess when cold medicine advertises "non-drowsy," they mean "don't sleep, ever!" Just watched a few too many Episodes of 'Sex and the City' and I now feel a compulsion to narrate my own life.

I swear there is a floating demonic Barbie doll lurking in this room. No joke.

I had this cold on New Years' and I still went out. Caroline, Shanda, Anne, and I went to the Rave. Only had a shot or two in the parking lot, and was unsuccessful in convincing people to buy us drinks. I was hit on by two cute guys, and two not so cute guys. Well, they were cute, just short. It's very awkward for me to talk with short guys, I feel like Gulliver in Lilliput. Anyhow, just after Midnight, we left. Caroline had been dealing with a cold as well, so by 1:30 a.m. I was home, completely sober and bored. The cold has been getting worse and worse since then and it sucks. I think maybe I got it from Lila, but there is a good chance that it came from my brother.

I have a free sample of a lecture series on Shakespeare that I want to listen to. Shakespeare is my hobby, so I hope this lecture guy isn't full of shit, because I'll be able to tell.